


Let the Light In

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rimming, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 19:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18900889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: Derek Hale barely believes he deserves a pack of his own, let alone a council-trained emissary, a nemeton, or a mate.(He's about to get all of that.)





	Let the Light In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> This was written for my 1st high bidder at the Fandom Trumps Hate auction. Thanks for donating to [Puerto Rico](https://www.conprmetidos.org/).
> 
> This fic was beta'd by majoline, my very best friend, and it had help from other friends along the way, too: Thanks to Miss R, Bunnywest, and TriDom especially for reading and keeping me sane as I wrote it. If I forgot someone, I apologize, I can't think.
> 
> This was meant to be 10k, it really was.

Derek's not _nervous_ , exactly. This isn't some kind of first date jitters problem. But he's expecting the new interim emissary tonight, and his head is everywhere at once, so he takes the betas out for a morning run through the forest.

The air is cool. The land is just shaking off the last remnants of winter as it gives way to Spring. There's fog in the forest where the sun hasn't yet touched, though the light is starting to filter in through the canopy.

It's beautiful, but Derek can't appreciate it. The betas don't seem to enjoy it much either. 

"I can't believe he got us out of bed for this," Erica grumbles. "I was having the best dream about Sebastian Stan."

"Our alpha's a sadist," Isaac grumbles.

Boyd is close behind Derek. "He can hear you."

"We know," Erica says sweetly.

Boyd gives an amused huff. 

If they can still talk, they aren't going fast enough. Derek circles back around behind them and growls. "Run."

They do. Erica's laughter rings out, echoing through the forest. 

That's when Derek feels that something's off. Someone is encroaching on his territory. He stops running but motions the others to keep going. "Meet back at the house in an hour," he tells them, then follows the feeling he's having to the west.

It's not a dangerous feeling. Whoever has stumbled their way into his territory doesn't mean any harm, he doesn't think. But he knows better than to trust someone outside the pack. He's been burned before, so to speak.

He finds himself on an oddly familiar trail, one he hasn't walked in some time. It's one that leads to the remnants of the nemeton, though there hasn't been any need to follow that particular path in years.

He gets to the clearing and blinks. A boy is sitting cross-legged on the stump with his eyes closed. His hands are resting on either side of him, palms flat on what's left of the nemeton. 

Derek walks closer. "This is private property."

The boy opens wide eyes and nearly flails his way off the stump to the ground. He catches himself at the last moment, but Derek can't help but feel amusement. He hides it behind a scowl.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know. Communing with nature," the boy says with a smile. "Hey, you're Derek, right? Derek Hale?"

Derek frowns. "Who wants to know?" He walks closer. His nostrils flare as he inhales, trying to catch a scent from the boy. He looks like he could be one of the fae, which is the last thing Derek needs in his territory right now.

The boy gets up and holds out a hand. "I'm Stiles. I'm your new emissary," he says, and Derek is hit with the delicious scent of _omega_ , fresh and sweet. Unclaimed.

Derek battles his instincts and growls. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Stiles takes back his hand and frowns. "No? The council sent me to be your emissary."

"Interim emissary," Derek says.

"Whatever. You need me, I'm here," the boy says. His eyes are brown. Bright.

"You're just a kid."

"I'm eighteen," Stiles says. "And yeah, before you bring it up, I'm an omega, but that doesn't mean I can't be a kickass emissary. I just need you to give me a chance."

Derek scowls. "I don't like this." Then he remembers where they are. "What were you doing with the nemeton?"

"I'm an emissary. What do you think I was doing?"

"It's a stump," Derek points out.

"She's not dead, just dormant," Stiles says, shocking Derek enough that the scowl falls off his face.

"What? No." This territory has no nemeton. It's not strategic or important the way it was before the tree was cut down. He never would have taken it up if it had been. He's not worthy of _that_ kind of territory.

But the boy is smiling and patting the stump. "She's just been waiting for the right caretakers. She'll grow again." He says it so gently, as if he's talking to the nemeton itself. 

Derek swallows. "Who…. who would be the 'right'..." He trails off, unsure if he wants to hear the answer.

Stiles looks up at him. His eyelashes are long. Distracting. "You're the alpha. You just need to prove to the nemeton you're deserving of her gifts. I can help; she's already excited to get started."

"But I'm not," Derek stresses. "I'm not worthy or deserving. I'm not even supposed to be the alpha. This is my sister's territory." He can't bear the boy's scrutiny anymore, so he turns away. "I asked the council to send a temporary emissary because my pack needs wards. On the territorial boundaries and our den. I didn't ask for anything else, and I don't _want_ it."

He feels it then, a tendril of something that feels like curiosity. He frowns. It feels almost like one of his pack bonds, weak though they are, but the personality behind it is unfamiliar. 

"You can't just leave her here," Stiles says, words clipped.

Behind the curiosity is bone-deep loneliness, Derek can feel it now, and he looks sharply at the boy. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Messing with my head!" Derek yells. He closes his eyes and steels himself against the intrusion that presses against his mind. 

"I'm not doing anything," Stiles yells back, swinging his arms wildly. "I just don't think — no, I know you need to do something about the nemeton. She's been waiting here for years for the right people to wake her up again. To pay attention to her. She wants to have a purpose again. She's so... "

"Lonely," Derek whispers.

Stiles stops yelling. "Yes. Yes, exactly."

"It's her," Derek says. He doesn't know why he's calling a tree a 'her' instead of an 'it', except the presence on the edge of his mind does feel feminine. "Why me?"

"What do you mean?" Stiles asks.

"My family has sent alphas to this territory before. Ones that are a lot more suited to the land than me. Why me? Why now?"

Stiles shrugs. "Dude, I have no idea why she chose you."

Derek frowns. "Don't call me that."

"Oh, sorry, _Alpha_ ," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. "But I bet I can answer the latter question: she chose now because you finally have an emissary."

"Interim. Temporary." Derek's not important enough, his pack not large enough, to need a full-time emissary that's bound to them. He doesn't want one, either.

Stiles shakes his head and smiles. "You're not getting rid of me. Your nemeton didn't just choose _you_ , she chose me, too. Stop scowling or your face will get stuck like that."

Derek scowls harder and starts walking away. "Well _I_ didn't choose you. I'm not going to, either. You have wards to put up and then you're going back to wherever you came from."

"Ha," Stiles says, jogging to keep up with him. "That's what you think."

Derek throws his most ferocious glare, but it seems to bounce right off the boy. Stiles just keeps smiling. He even starts humming.

Thankfully, the further from the tree stump they walk, the less Derek can feel her. _It_. By the time they get to the den, it's almost easy to ignore the questioning, lonely presence.

* * *

The infuriating boy doesn't wait for Derek to introduce him to the betas. "Hey, I'm Stiles, I'm your new emissary."

Derek growls lowly, but Stiles doesn't even flinch. He turns and _winks_.

Erica looks back and forth between them before smiling widely. "I'm Erica. I think we're gonna get along just fine. Wait…" Her eyes widen. "You're an omega?"

"All the subtlety of a brick," Isaac mutters. 

"Yeah," Stiles says. He smells slightly uncomfortable, but you'd never know it just by looking at him. He practically oozes casual confidence.

"Don't emissaries have to make vows to the pack?" Erica asks, and Derek would reprimand her for being nosy, but it's a question he has, too.

"I'm perfectly capable of committing, regardless of my biology," Stiles says. It rolls off his tongue like he's said it a hundred times before. Maybe he has.

And now Derek is thinking about Stiles's tongue. Just to make things worse, Stiles chooses that moment to lick his lips.

"But-" Erica starts to say. Boyd pulls her away before she can point out more perceived inconsistencies. 

And that's what they are, right? Derek may have his doubts about an omega emissary, but that's just his perception. Stiles is the one who has to live this life. Surely he's thought about it at length. 

Not that it matters, because he won't be staying.

Isaac introduces himself, rolling his eyes at Erica and smiling. Boyd follows suit, though he is a lot more formal about it. But that's Boyd with people he doesn't know well.

Derek hangs back, watching. It's not that he wants to see how Stiles gets along with his pack, because this isn't a test. Although when Stiles makes Isaac laugh and Boyd crack a smile, it seems as though he's passed it.

Stiles looks over his shoulder at Derek. Derek raises his eyebrows. What does he want now? But Stiles just grins and turns back. He asks Erica something to do with her skincare routine, and she pulls him along with her upstairs, chatting about charcoal masks and toner and other things Derek has no interest in. 

Once they're out of sight, Boyd moves to stand by Derek's shoulder. "Emissary?"

"He's not staying," Derek says, though he wonders if he sounds defensive.

"You could put him in Peter's room," Isaac suggests. That was the original plan, before Derek met Stiles.

Now, the thought of having Stiles sleep in his uncle's sometimes-bed (he only uses it when he visits, which isn't that often) makes Derek uncomfortable. "I'll do up the attic for him."

The attic room is empty for now except for a bed and boxes, and the only person who stays in it is his mother, on the rare occasions she can leave her territory to see in person how Derek's doing. She doesn't come often. Her scent doesn't linger. The only thing the attic room smells of is dust and old books.

"Hungry?" Isaac asks. 

Derek nods. After their run (and everything else), a big breakfast would be excellent, and Derek knows Isaac is practically vibrating to get started.

"I'll help," Boyd offers, but Isaac shakes his head. 

"You can wash dishes after," Isaac says with a wink.

Boyd rolls his eyes, but Derek knows he'll be in there with a sponge and dish soap once they're finished eating. Boyd shrugs. "Guess I'll take a shower, then."

Derek heads upstairs to grab some sheets out of the linen closet. On his way past the bathroom, he hears Erica say, "And this one foams to make your whole face look like a cloud." 

Stiles's answer is enthusiastic, and Derek can't help but quirk his lips. They'll be in there for a while. 

The attic room in most pack houses is traditionally called 'the emissary's apartment'. Derek's not going to give it Stiles for that reason, but because it's most convenient. Peter's room might be closer to the pack, but it's saturated with his scent and Stiles would probably appreciate more space to himself, anyway.

The bed in the attic is a double, like the betas' beds, so it's easy to find sheets that fit. He picks a set that hasn't been used a lot, and so isn't soaking with any particular scent other than detergent and dryer sheets. He takes another set of stairs up to the attic and looks around.

The attic room is large, but it's mostly filled with books Peter swore Derek would need as a new alpha, plus some half-empty boxes that held kitchen wares. There are other boxes, ones Derek hasn't opened since he packed them. Gifts from his going away party, things he will never need. 

He frowns at all the boxes, then starts moving them across the room, making space for Stiles to walk around the bed, to the windows, to the small, private bathroom Talia had put in not long before Laura's accident when it looked as if she'd be claiming the territory soon.

Derek clenches his jaw when that thought pops up, but he's careful not to tear the sheets as he puts them on the bed. His anger is good, though. It keeps him anchored. But right on anger's heels comes guilt. He may as well have put Laura in the coma himself. If he hadn't been so enamored of Kate, if he hadn't blabbed pack secrets, Laura would be the one welcoming a new emissary into her territory. 

Laura would know what do do about the nemeton, too. She'd- Well, she'd-

He doesn't know what she would do, but whatever it was, it would be right for the territory and the pack. He winces. He's the alpha, now. He has to be the one doing right by his pack.

He may not be worthy of anything, but his betas deserve better. He can't give them a better alpha at this point, but he can make sure they are safe and strong. A nemeton would give them that.

He finishes making the bed and looks around the room. It needs a good cleaning, but otherwise he thinks it's okay.

He tells himself he doesn't care if Stiles likes it, but he smooths the blanket down, incidentally wiping his scent on it.

It'll have to be good enough. Derek heads downstairs to the breakfast he can now smell.

* * *

"Most omega kids have mate dreams," Stiles is saying. He looks down at the plate of food he's been served and eyes it hungrily. Still, he doesn't take a bite. "I had emissary dreams."

Derek sits down at the table and grabs his fork. "This looks good."

Isaac grins. "Yeah, well. Sausage and pancakes aren't hard."

"What are emissary dreams?" Erica asks.

Derek takes a bite of food and the rest of them start eating. He can't help the frisson of satisfaction it gives him that Stiles waited, too. 

Stiles waits until he swallows his first bite before he starts talking again. "Just what it sounds like. From the time I was a little kid, I had dreams about being an emissary, about bonding to a nemeton and a pack. Instead of dreaming about a mate, I dreamed about a pack alpha."

"How'd you know the pack alpha wasn't your mate?" Isaac asks.

Interestingly enough, Stiles turns pink. "Well, um, I don't know that for sure. But I've studied a lot about mate dreams, and they're always… I don't know, romantic or sexual. I dream about submitting to my alpha, but, um…" For some reason, he looks at Derek.

Derek raises his eyebrows, not knowing what Stiles wants him to say.

"Are you interested in romance or sex?" Erica asks. "Cuz if you aren't, that'd explain everything."

"Erica," Derek growls. Some questions seem too personal for a first meeting.

But Stiles sighs. Smiles a little. "Yeah, I am. I'm not aro or ace. So nothing gets explained at all."

"Do other emissaries have emissary dreams?" Boyd asks. 

"Sometimes, but when I went for training, I learned that I'm the first omega they have on record that had any. I'm kind of a weirdo, I guess." Stiles stabs a sausage and takes a bite off the end of it.

"Did you see your pack alpha, then, the way other omegas see their mates?" Erica asks, leaning in.

Derek sighs. "Omegas don't see their mates in mate dreams. Just impressions they have to decipher. Things that only make sense later."

Stiles beams at him. "That's right! Despite what Hollywood would have you think, mate dreams — and emissary dreams — are really like looking at an impressionist painting, only you're right on top of it and can't make anything out. Even when you put it all together and try to step back, you can't see much. Believe me, I've tried."

"My auntie had a mate dream she couldn't figure out until ten years after she was actually mated," Boyd says, twirling his fork in the air for emphasis. "Took a look at my uncle one day, blinked a lot, and went, 'Oh, that's what it meant!'"

Erica frowns, then shrugs and goes back to eating.

Isaac asks, "How did she know she was mating with the right person when she did it, then?" 

Boyd looks at him like he's stupid. "They were in love."

"Yeah, but- That doesn't always last," Isaac finishes quietly.

Isaac's mother had been an omega. Derek doesn't know the exact conditions of her death, but he knows Mr. Lahey was an abusive asshole. It's possible he killed his mate, or that she killed herself. Derek doesn't want to pry, but he hopes Isaac knows he's there if he needs to talk.

Isaac notices Derek looking at him and gives a forced smile before looking away. Derek's lips go thin. 

"There's a lot of bullshit expectations around mates and mating," Stiles says. "My mom died when I was ten, and my dad was never the same again. But they were both betas, so people don't think he should be as heartbroken as he is. Fuckers, right?" He looks like he's about to get up and fight those invisible people right now, but then he deflates. "I grew up believing you can find love with anyone, regardless of your biology. I could totally fall in love with another omega or a beta. Or maybe I'll never fall in love. Who knows? Plus my loyalty goes to the pack first, once I make my vows." He looks at Derek.

For the first time since he left it there, the nemeton sends a tendril of curiosity his way, reminding Derek of her presence, and what a bond to her — and Stiles — might mean. He swallows hard.

He could cede the territory back to his mother, ask Talia to find a more qualified pack alpha. Someone worthy of a nexus like the nemeton. But that might mean giving up his betas, and leaving Beacon Hills, and… he likes it here. He loves the betas. It's taken him some time to get used to them and being a pack alpha, but it's been three years now and it's grown on him, even though it was supposed to be his sister's place.

Laura would know what to do, he's sure.

"Eat your sausages and stop looking like somebody died," Stiles says. The words are flippant, but his eyes are kind.

It should rankle. An outsider giving the pack alpha an order? But Derek doesn't mind. His wolf is actually perked up and paying attention to the boy-emissary, more than Derek thinks is warranted. 

The betas look back and forth between Derek and Stiles. Derek puts on a frown and takes a bite, eyeing Stiles as he does. Stiles beams. The others are watching; Derek can feel their curious gazes. He deliberately doesn't look at them as he finishes his food.

* * *

Stiles doesn't seem to mind the dust when Derek shows him his attic room, even when it's pointed out.

"Nah, man, this is great!" Stiles enthuses.

"I made the bed for you," Derek says. His words come out a little stilted, but Stiles either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Derek is used to his pack making fun of him for it.

"It's nice," Stiles says. He peers at the boxes. "What are all these books?"

"Some stuff my uncle thought we'd need," Derek says with a slight frown. He shrugs. "So far, we haven't."

"Do you mind if I look at them?" Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs again. Shakes his head. "Go ahead."

Stiles looks genuinely excited. "Okay, but that's for later. I want to talk about the nemeton first."

"Look," Derek starts to say, but then he deflates again and starts over, less harsh. "Look, I don't know what to tell you. I thought it was dead. This was supposed to be my sister's territory. I never wanted it, never deserved it. But…" He trails off, thinking. A nemeton would make the territory stronger, would make his betas safer.

Stiles doesn't give an inch. "What happened to your sister?"

Derek swallows hard. "A hunter happened. Laura, my sister, she's in a coma."

"Is the hunter dead?" Stiles asks, steel in his voice. Like he wants to go out and kill Kate himself. 

Derek smiles grimly. "My uncle killed her."

"I'm glad somebody did," Stiles says. "So, okay, you were never meant to be a pack alpha?"

"Not really," Derek says. "I don't know why the power passed to me. Maybe because I was the closest pack member when Laura… was hurt."

"You were with her?" Stiles asks.

Derek looks away. He can remember it so clearly. Laura's screams were deafening, but he still could hear Kate's laughter. She wanted him to witness everything, to know it was all his fault.

Stiles tilts his head. "You don't have to talk about it."

Derek nods, still not looking at him. 

"But the alpha spark doesn't work like that. It doesn't just go to whoever's closest. You have to be worthy of it."

"Then there was some kind of mistake," Derek says. 

"I doubt that very much," Stiles says softly.

"You don't know that. You don't know anything about me," Derek says with a scowl.

"The nemeton chose you. That's got to mean something," Stiles points out, but he's wrong.

"You said it only woke up now because you were there."

"What, those other alphas who came out here didn't have emissaries? You think nobody tried to wake her up before now?" Stiles says and scoffs. "Dude, a nemeton is a pretty big deal. Emissaries don't just ignore them."

Derek frowns at the implication. "But-"

"She likes us. Both of us. But now that she's waking up, unless we perform the right rituals for her, she's gonna be drawing all kinds of things into your territory. Not her fault, it's just the way these things work when a nemeton goes unclaimed."

"Like a pretty omega?" Derek asks. He can't seem to stop the words from coming out.

"Yeah like… wait, are you… Derek!" Stiles's eyes go wide. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Derek doesn't answer, but he does raise his eyebrows and smile.

Stiles blushes. He smells incredibly sweet now. Derek wants to get closer, to breathe in more of that scent for himself.

He doesn't, of course. 

Stiles's smile goes teasing then. "I think you're pretty, too." And then he winks and moves, making his way back down the stairs.

Derek is left staring after him, not knowing what just happened. Was that flirting? Did he flirt? And Stiles flirted _back_?

"Wait, where are you going?" Derek finally asks, but Stiles is out of earshot and he has to hurry to catch up with him.

"Did you say something?" Stiles asks. He's nearly to the front door.

Derek frowns. "I asked where you're going."

"I have to go back into town and get my Jeep. I walked here, remember?"

"I can drive you," Derek mumbles.

Stiles grins. "That'd be great. In case you didn't notice, I'm not really all that athletic. Wasn't looking forward to another trek through the woods."

Derek leads him out to his car. Not the pack SUV, but his Camaro.

"Sweet ride," Stiles says. He gets in and sits in the passenger seat.

"Where to?" Derek asks, ignoring the preening his wolf does over the compliment. He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway.

"Hmm," Stiles says. "I parked in front of a cafe where I had a late dinner. Mabel's, I think it's called."

Derek raises his eyebrows. "You were in town last night?"

"Just to eat. Then I felt the nemeton, you know. So I started walking."

Derek doesn't know how that makes any sense. "Didn't you do something to wake her up?"

Stiles shakes his head, looking out the window as the forest flies past. "She tried to get my attention as soon as I was close. I mean, it wasn't a strong pull, but I felt it. Took me awhile to get to her. Lots of meandering. Hours of looking. But I kept at it, and then there she was. Or what's left of her, anyway." He smells a little sad then. 

"You said you can get her to grow again?" Derek asks. "How?"

"I said _we_ can. Together," Stiles reminds him.

Derek concentrates on the road and decides not to ask any more questions. Stiles fidgets, but he doesn't say anything more until they pull up to Mabel's Diner. An old blue Jeep is sitting right in front. 

"There's Roscoe," Stiles says, pointing to the Jeep. Derek notices that the back of the vehicle is full of stuff — boxes, bags, and suitcases. It's clear that Stiles is planning on moving in.

Derek wants to argue, wants to deny that he likes Stiles or needs a full-time emissary. He doesn't need the extra aggravation, and he sure isn't worthy of the kind of pack a nemeton and a council-trained emissary would make. Hell, he'd get people wanting to join up, or wanting to be friendly, and he'd probably wind up with some kind of clout in the end. And those were the sorts of things his sister wanted, what she dreamed about. It wouldn't be fair for him to take them for himself.

"Meet you at the nemeton!" Stiles calls, and drives away.

Dammit.

* * *

In the diner parking lot, Derek sits in the Camaro and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He's conflicted. He knows if he calls his mom, she'll only tell him he's worthy of everything and needs to stop beating himself up about Kate. He knows exactly what she'll say about the nemeton and Stiles, so what's the point in calling her?

He calls Peter, instead. His uncle picks up on the second ring with a worried voice. "Derek? Is everything okay?"

Which is fair. He doesn't call Peter enough for mundane reasons. They aren't as close as they used to be. 

Apparently he doesn't answer quick enough for Peter. "Derek?"

"I just need to talk to someone who won't bullshit me," Derek finally says. 

Peter seems to relax now that he knows it's not a matter of life or death. He huffs a laugh. "So you called _me_?"

Again, fair. Peter is one of the world's biggest bulllshitters. But he won't treat Derek like he's made of glass, or like the favorite son. He was there that day. He knows how Kate was able to get to Laura.

"I need advice," Derek says, then says the rest quickly. "The nemeton's awake. And I've got an emissary who wants to bond to it. And the pack, I guess."

His uncle is quiet for so long Derek thinks the call disconnected.

"Peter?"

"Sorry, I needed a moment. Tell me what the problem is, because I'm not seeing one. You've been given a rare opportunity."

"But I don't deserve it," Derek says quietly. He leans forward and rests his forehead on the steering wheel. He's glad the windows are tinted. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this. "You know I was never meant to be a pack alpha. This territory should have been Laura's. The nemeton should have been hers, too. And Stiles…"

"What's a Stiles?" Peter asks.

"The emissary."

Peter makes a soft 'ah' sound. "This isn't about what you deserve. It's the hand you've been dealt. The universe has decided this is your fate, and there's nothing you can do about it other than make the most of it. You have a pack and you should think of your responsibility to them first. So what's best for your pack?"

Derek grunts. 

"That's not an answer, nephew," Peter says. His voice is faux-stern, with a lilt of laughter behind it. 

"It's not funny."

"No, of course not. Everything with you has to be so serious and angsty all the time," Peter grumbles. 

"You know why," Derek says. "I called you because you _know_."

Peter sighs dramatically. "I feel like driving down there to Beacon Hills just so I can knock some sense into you. You made a mistake, Derek. You were sixteen. Every teenager makes mistakes-"

"My mistake cost Laura her whole life!" Derek explodes. "She's probably never going to wake up, and it's all my fault!"

Peter goes quiet again. 

Derek feels hot, angry tears in his eyes. "I don't deserve any of this, not a pack or happiness or a nemeton, and not an emissary, either!"

"Laura would kick your ass for talking like that about yourself," Peter points out, and he's right.

He's so right. Laura would never let him do this to himself, but… "Laura's not around to care anymore. Because of me."

"Stop blaming yourself for something Kate Argent did," Peter growls. "I killed her. I killed the person responsible. If I thought it was your fault, I wouldn't have hesitated to go after you, too."

Derek sucks in a shaky breath. "You never wanted to?"

"Oh, pup," Peter says. "I never blamed you."

"But you were there," Derek says, feeling lost. "You're the one person besides Laura who knows."

"I know what Kate said to you, how she tried to wring every bit of guilt out of you. But she was a liar and a sadist."

"She-"

" _Derek_ ," Peter says sharply. "It was not your fault. It just wasn't."

If Derek wasn't in the parking lot of a diner, he'd break down.

"Do what's best for your pack. What's best for you," Peter says. "And if you don't, _I'll_ come kick your ass for it."

Derek lets out a watery laugh. "Yeah. Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll go talk to Stiles now," Derek promises.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Peter asks lightly.

Derek huffs. "Fuck you."

Peter laughs. "Call me if you need anything else."

* * *

The thing is, Derek thinks as he drives back out to the Preserve, is that he's not ready. Stiles descended on him and within a few hours Derek was changing his mind about everything.

He can't do things this quickly. He can't-

But then again, the most important events of his life happened in the blink of an eye. It's just terrible luck that they were all horrific things.

 _If I can live through all that…_ Derek thinks, and wonders how to complete the sentence. Maybe it means he can stand up through anything. He fully expects this to blow up in his face.

He tells Stiles as much once he finds him and the nemeton.

"Have a little faith, dude," Stiles tells him.

Derek frowns.

" _Alpha_ ," Stiles corrects. Then he says, "Can you feel her now?"

Derek nods. The nemeton felt excited as he approached. 

"I can say this because she doesn't understand the comparison, but she's a little like an overexcited puppy, you know?" Stiles sits back down on the stump and pats it. "Wriggling around, wanting us to play with her."

"I'm not ready. For whatever happens next," Derek says, hoping he's making himself clear enough. "I need some time."

Stiles cocks his head and looks at him. Then he smiles. "Well, we can't exactly do any rituals until the new moon, and then we have to wait until the full to complete it. So you've got a few days, and then a couple weeks. No hurry."

Derek lets out a breath. He nods. "Good."

"You think I'm not nervous, too?" Stiles asks. "I… on the full moon, I need to make a lifelong vow to your pack. That's a big deal. I just met you guys. What if you don't like me? What if I'm stuck with a pack who treats me like shit? I mean, no offense or anything. But what I know about you could fit in a thin manilla folder provided by the council. Literally."

"Erica likes you," Derek mutters.

"She likes my taste in skincare. What if she finds out something about me that makes her actively hate me? I'm not exactly flawless," Stiles says. "I've got ADHD, which is a highly misunderstood and misrepresented disorder, so you might expect me to get distracted by random shinies but I'm more likely to hyperfixate on one thing for hours to the exclusion of everything else. And then there's the executive dysfunction, so I hope you don't expect me to do any tasks like, I don't know, clean my room or do the dishes, because I will just worry and get anxious about not doing them but then not do them anyway. That's not even bringing my anxiety into the mix, which makes everything worse-"

"Stiles!" Derek says, getting more and more worried as Stiles goes on without stopping for breath. "Take a deep breath. Relax."

Stiles exhales. Inhales. Starts talking again. "I want this to work out, but I'm not the best emissary you could get. What if you decide you don't like me and send me back to the council? What if… what if you're the pack of my dreams but you don't actually _want_ me?"

Derek can't believe this is the same confident and competent boy from earlier in the day. The nemeton is worried, too. Derek can feel her try to mentally wrap around them, and Stiles is right. She's a lot like a pup. She'd be whining and licking Stiles's face if she could.

Derek walks over and sits down next to Stiles. He's not good at solace. He sucks at giving sympathy. But the betas have taught him at least this much over the past few years. He awkwardly puts an arm around Stiles's shoulders. "Let's just try and see how it goes, okay? Maybe you'll decide I'm not an alpha you want to attach yourself to."

Stiles gives him a suspicious look.

"I'm not that great," Derek says slowly. "I fell into being an alpha. I never had any training to lead a pack because my sister was the heir, so everything I've learned in the last three years has been either a crash course from my mom and uncle, or trial and error with the betas. And there's been a lot of error."

Stiles is still upset, and his heart is beating too fast, but listening to Derek talk seems to be working.

"I trusted a hunter when I was sixteen, and I got my sister tortured and burned almost to death. She's in a coma now, and I might as well have put her there myself," Derek admits quietly.

"Oh, Derek, no," Stiles says.

Derek winces. He didn't mean to come out and say that now, didn't mean to bare himself so thoroughly. But Stiles doesn't sound accusing, even though he probably should. 

He may as well go all the way now that he's started. "And before that, when I was fifteen, I… I killed an innocent. Before I inherited the alpha spark, my eyes were blue."

Stiles leans into him instead of pulling away. Derek doesn't understand.

"You know emissaries can sense auras?" Stiles asks, apropos of nothing.

This close, Derek can smell everything that makes Stiles himself. The omega part is masked a bit by the almost overwhelming scent of magic, but it's there. Sweet and inviting. Derek knows it would be stronger around his pulse points. He wishes he could lean in and sniff without being creepy. He wants to bury his nose in Stiles's neck and take deep, heaving lungfuls of it.

He hums, instead. Makes it sound like a question.

Stiles hums back and rests his head on Derek's shoulder. "I don't know what happened, but killers have a certain darkness around them. Like a film covering up who they really are."

Derek can't help the whine he lets out at that, but Stiles pats him on the knee and then grabs his hand. Derek lets him. Stiles entwines his fingers with Derek's, sending a thrill through him. Derek's wolf is practically running around in circles.

"You don't have that," Stiles assures him. "You're not a killer. You may have done something, but the only thing it gave you was guilt. And that's where they think blue eyes come from, you know? It's a guilt thing."

Derek swallows. "I have a lot of that," he says quietly.

"Yeah." Stiles squeezes Derek's hand. "We're gonna work on it."

Derek huffs a laugh. He doesn't know how to feel about that.

The nemeton feels happy, like there's nowhere she'd rather be than wrapped up around Derek and Stiles. 

"What do we need to do on the new moon?" Derek asks, hoping to change the subject.

"It's like… an engagement. Or maybe the start of a courtship," Stiles says. "Mostly we say some words and commit ourselves to using the nemeton as our place of worship. The place where we'll perform all our important rituals."

Derek frowns. "We haven't been following the old ways, so I'm a little rusty on that." He winces, hoping Stiles won't take him to task for it.

"That's understandable, since you haven't had an emissary to guide you in them," Stiles says. "But it'll make a big difference to the territory if you keep it happy."

"The nemeton?" Derek asks.

Stiles smiles a little but he rolls his eyes. "No, dude, you gotta keep your territory happy, too. The land is just as important as the nemeton. They work together. _You_ work together."

Derek nods slowly. "I guess that's why Peter gave me all those books. He said there are some on working with a nemeton."

"That's great!" Stiles says. "I mean, I've been trained to do it, but a refresher course is always a good thing. I think we went over nemata when I was fifteen, so I'm rusty."

They pull apart, though Derek finds himself hesitant to do so. 

Stiles is blushing, but his eyes are bright and happy. "It's okay to be worried. But dude, this is gonna be _awesome_."

Derek can't help but smile back, because Stiles's enthusiasm is infectious.

* * *

Over the next few days, Stiles gets to know the betas and they get to know him. Isaac is the slowest to warm up, for some reason. Probably because Stiles teases him and he doesn't know what to do with that.

Erica and Stiles are soon as thick as thieves and just as mischievous. Boyd hangs back at first, just watching, but eventually Derek finds him smiling over one of Stiles's jokes. Then it keeps happening.

And Derek gets to know Stiles, too. He's not as sweet as he first appeared. Apparently he'd been on his best behavior when he first showed up. Now he's mouthy and opinionated and frustrating and he talks constantly. Derek doesn't know if he wants to shake him or kiss him.

And therein lies the problem. 

Stiles is an infuriating, sarcastic little shit. He's always moving, always talking, and he smells like heaven. He's an unclaimed omega who seems to really care about Derek's pack and what the future holds. He'd be the perfect mate, if Derek was worthy of such a thing.

"What's with the frown, big guy?" Stiles asks. "C'mon, new moon tonight! You've got a lot to be excited about, but you're glaring like you're trying to explode the floorboards with your mind."

"It's nothing," Derek grumbles.

"C'mon," Stiles says, grabbing Derek's shirtsleeve and pulling him out the door. Away from the house. Out of the betas' hearing. They walk a little ways up the trail, and then Stiles stops. He folds his arms and looks at Derek with a frown of his own. "Okay. Spit it out. What did I do wrong?"

He may sound confrontational, but he smells of anxiety.

Derek shakes his head. "You didn't do anything."

"You've been like this since I decided I could let my guard down," Stiles says. "Is it too much for you?"

"No, nothing like that," Derek says.

Stiles doesn't look convinced. "Really."

Derek aches to pull him close. "I swear. You haven't done anything wrong."

"Then what's got your panties in a twist?" Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs.

"That's not an answer." Stiles reminds Derek of a little terrier. He's not letting this go.

"You're distracting," Derek grumbles.

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "How?"

"With your… your hands. You're always moving them to prove a point."

Stiles looks down. His arms are still folded.

"Not right now, but… you do that. And sometimes you chew on things."

"Like?" Stiles asks, sounding completely flummoxed.

"Straws. Your hoodie strings. Pens?" Derek says weakly.

"And that makes you glare at things?" Stiles asks. The scent of confusion is rolling off him in waves.

Derek huffs. "Yes. No, not just that. You're… you're really good with the betas."

"Aaand…?" Stiles prods.

"And you smell-"

"I smell?" Stiles squawks.

" _Good_ ," Derek says quickly. "You smell good."

Stiles narrows his eyes. "Is this an alpha thing?"

Derek mumbles, "I think it's a me thing."

"What does that mean?" Stiles asks.

Derek clears his throat. "When do you, uh, do you have a, a thing, a place to go when you, um…"

"What?" Stiles asks, blinking. His eyes are big and inquisitive, like a pup's, but he's definitely not a pup.

"What are you going to do when you go into heat?" Derek asks quickly.

Stiles opens his mouth and doesn't close it again for a long moment. Then he seems to realize what he's doing and shuts it with a click of his teeth. His face starts to turn pink. "I have some time to plan for it. Um. Why?"

"Well, I just…" Derek says, but he can't complete the sentence because he doesn't know what he was thinking asking about Stiles's heat.

"Are you…. are you offering to be my heat partner?" Stiles asks slowly.

Now it's Derek's turn to blush. He can feel the color climbing into his face. Down his neck. On the tips of his ears. "If you want."

"Do _you_ want?" Stiles asks.

Derek looks away from the little smile on Stiles's face. It's cute. Kissable. He almost forgets to answer the question. He nods.

Stiles lets out a small noise that Derek can't decipher, but he smells sweet. Receptive. Pleased. "Okay."

"Yeah?" Derek asks, so surprised he forgot he wasn't looking.

Stiles smiles. "Definitely."

"When…. when is it?" Derek asks. 

"Right after the full moon," Stiles says. "Maybe a little during, I'm not sure. Hopefully I can get through the ritual." He frowns a little. "Damn. I hadn't thought about that."

"You'll get through it," Derek says with all the confidence he has. 

Stiles gives him a shy smile. "Yeah?"

Derek nods, feeling awkward and unrelentingly shy himself.

"So… you like me," Stiles says.

Derek frowns.

Stiles laughs. "You do! That's what all the stuff about my hands was about. And me chewing on things. You've been paying attention to my mouth? You like my fingers?" He wiggles them a little for emphasis.

Derek frowns harder. 

"Why does it make you look like you swallowed a lemon?" Stiles asks. "Are you mad at yourself for liking me?"

"Yes," Derek grinds out between his teeth.

"This conversation is giving me whiplash."

Derek huffs.

"You're allowed to like people," Stiles says slowly. "You don't deserve punishment for wanting something for yourself."

"You don't understand," Derek says.

"No, I don't. But I like you back. You gonna punish me, too?"

Again, Derek is surprised. "What?"

"I like you. I'm attracted to you. Is that allowed?" Stiles asks.

"You shouldn't," Derek says.

Stiles narrows his eyes. "I really hope you're not about to tell me you're not worthy of a mate the way you thought you weren't worthy of an emissary."

Derek opens his mouth to argue but realizes he wants to say exactly that. He turns away. Then he processes what Stiles said and turns back with wide eyes. "A mate?"

"Boyfriend, mate, whatever," Stiles says, his cheeks going even redder.

"There's a big difference there," Derek points out.

"Are you worthy of one and not the other?" Stiles asks.

Derek frowns. Thinks. "Maybe."

Stiles sighs. "Well, something convinced you about the emissary thing, so maybe you can be convinced about the other stuff, too. Down the road, though. Look, I'm not offering to be your mate. I like you a lot, but we haven't known each other that long. So if you want to be my heat partner, that's great, and if you want to try to be a little more, that's good too. You can take me on a date."

Derek blinks. "I can?" He's pretty sure this is not where he thought the conversation was going.

Stiles grins. "Yep. And if the date goes good, I'll consider being your boyfriend."

"You will?" Derek's lost all control of the situation.

"You're so cute when you're confused," Stiles says, and leans in to kiss him. Or rather, his nose.

Derek goes stock-still. "What?"

Stiles winks at him, turns on his heel, and starts walking back toward the house.

Derek stays right where he is, trying to puzzle out what just happened.

* * *

Derek is distracted during the new moon ritual. It's hard not to be when Stiles is wearing a traditional emissary cloak, which reaches down to his ankles but is a paper-thin silk material with huge slits on the sides that reach all the way up to his thighs. 

They're nice thighs. It's a good thing Derek only has to say 'Yes' a few times during the ritual. If he had to memorize and repeat some of the stuff Stiles says, he'd be out of luck. The nemeton would reject him for sure.

The pack is gathered around in the nemeton's clearing to witness Stiles and Derek's vows.

"It's creepy," Isaac whispers at one point. "Do you feel like something's watching you?"

Boyd nods. "Shut up before you piss her off."

Isaac looks at Erica with a frown. She shrugs.

Boyd pokes Isaac in the side. "Not Erica. The _tree_."

Stiles turns around and smiles at the betas. "She's evaluating you a little. She hasn't really met Derek's pack before, so she wants to know more about you. So yeah, she's watching you. It's no big deal."

Derek shivers. The nemeton is doing more than _watching_. Tendrils of her consciousness poke at him to pay attention. He's not sure if that's a rebuke of himself or his betas, but he turns and frowns. "Just be quiet. Let her look at you. She's not going to hurt you or anything." He's pretty sure, anyway. 

Stiles nods and takes Derek's hand. It's part of the ritual. It doesn't mean anything. But Stiles's fingers entwine with his and it just feels… right.

Stiles says some words about the directions and elements, about being guided to the nemeton. The words themselves don't seem as important as recognizing and honoring her. At one point, the wind blowing through the trees around them sounds ethereal, almost like panpipes. It should spook them, but Derek feels nothing but a growing sense of awe through the pack bonds. There's an energy here beyond the presence that is the nemeton. Something under and around them, and Derek closes his eyes and focuses on that, too.

Stiles sounds exultant as the ritual comes to an end. He promises that he and Derek will return together on the full moon, that the pack will come back again and give all the proper respects. Derek finds himself nodding along, agreeing. The nemeton feels more than pleased — she's genuinely excited. 

When Stiles speaks next, Derek knows it's a closing. A temporary goodbye. "We thank you for your blessings. We will journey on, as children of the nemeton. We will carry your blessings through our life, and into our home and hearth, until we return again. Thank you, lady."

Derek nods and repeats him. "Thank you," he murmurs. He knows it's not part of the ritual, but it feels like the right thing to do. Behind him, he hears the betas give their own quiet gratitude.

Stiles is still holding his hand. He turns to Derek and his eyes are shining with magic. He looks beautiful and powerful, and Derek only wants to lean in and kiss him. 

The nemeton seems to smile in his mind, and the wind goes still, like it's holding its breath for them.

"Is it time to go now?" Isaac asks, loud enough to break the spell. Boyd and Erica hush him and pull him back down the path, but the moment is gone.

Derek squeezes Stiles's hand. "Thank _you_." Then he pulls away and looks at the nemeton. She's not glowing in actuality, but she's not dead, either. She may just be a stump, but he can feel her roots, can feel her potential. He wonders if this is what Stiles always feels. 

"She can start growing again on the full moon," Stiles says.

"Are you reading my mind?" Derek asks, only half joking.

Stiles shakes his head, a small smile playing around his mouth. His eyes start to lose their glow, but they're still bright, still excited. "It just makes sense that's what you'd wonder about."

"I don't know why she was cut down," Derek says with a frown. "But Peter probably knows. He's an expert on our pack history."

"I can't wait to meet him," Stiles says, completely innocently of course, but Derek frowns. He doesn't like that idea. Stiles is exactly Peter's type. Clever, sarcastic, and powerful. Plus he's an unclaimed omega and there's no telling what Peter would think of that. 

"Maybe after the full moon," Derek says with a grunt. Once Stiles is pledged to him, he means. Or to his pack, anyway. When Stiles becomes their official emissary.

Stiles is looking at him now, head cocked like a curious pup. "Okay?"

"My mom keeps him pretty busy," Derek mumbles, and casts about for a subject change. "How will the nemeton grow again?"

"I'm not sure," Stiles admits. "I need to read those books you said you have. I need a crash course on nemeta. I can only remember so much from my training, and I've used up all my go-to emissary knowledge on tonight's ritual."

"You… you did good."

Stiles beams at him. "Thanks. She thinks so, too." He sits on the stump and pats it. The slit in his robe gapes open, revealing a long stretch of leg. Derek wonders what that leg might look like wrapped around his waist and has to force the thought away, because Stiles is still talking. "She was planted right on a convergence of ley lines. She'll have no problem growing again."

"Yeah, but it'll take decades or longer before she's as big as she was, right?"

"I'm not sure," Stiles says. "I might be able to help her along."

"Do you know where she came from to start with? The seed or sapling or whatever?" Derek asks, genuinely curious and trying not to stare at Stiles's bare thigh.

"Not without diving into your pack's records." Then Stiles lights up. "Oh, maybe your uncle knows!"

Derek frowns. "I can ask him."

Stiles grins again. "That'd be great."

"Ready to go back?" Derek asks.

"Sure." Stiles pats the stump again and stands. His robe falls back into place, leaving only a teasing glimpse again.

They walk back to the den, side by side. Every once in awhile, their hands brush, and every touch is a tease and a promise. 

For once, Derek doesn't feel guilty about being happy.

* * *

Derek hasn't been on a date since Paige. With Kate, they had to keep things secret, and so they we never together in public. At the time, Kate told him it was because no one would understand, and that it was 'technically illegal', since Derek was still a minor and Kate… wasn't.

Now he knows, of course, that there was a lot more to it than a potential statutory rape charge at stake. 

He squeezes his eyes shut tight. He doesn't want to think about this.

Date. He's going on a date with Stiles. The last date he went on was to a college symphony performance with Paige. Derek had hated the music, but Paige had loved it. Derek spent the entire concert watching her and reveling in the way her scent changed with the music. Even despite not liking the concert itself, he had a good time. 

So as long as he takes Stiles somewhere good, he thinks he'll enjoy it. But he has to make sure Stiles likes the place Derek takes him. Which is a problem, because he's drawing a blank on where that should be.

He asks his betas, but they all have different ideas. Erica says to take Stiles to a movie, Isaac says maybe an occult bookstore, and Boyd thinks Stiles might enjoy ice skating or bowling.

Finally, Derek gives up and asks Stiles directly. 

"Take me to Mabel's," Stiles says immediately. "I've been craving diner food."

So Mabel's it is. 

"It doesn't really matter where we went," Stiles tells him in between bites of the diner's famous meatloaf. He twirls his fork around and then stabs a glazed carrot. "Dates are about getting to know someone. Next time, we go somewhere _you_ like."

Derek nods. They can do that. Also, the 'next time' sends a warm feeling through him. "So this isn't our first and last time out?" he jokes.

Stiles's eyes go soft and he shakes his head. "You're not getting rid of me that easy."

Derek ducks his head to hide his smile.

They end up talking for hours. Derek tells Stiles about building his pack, about Erica's application to Talia's main pack and their first meeting, when Derek was still iffy on the whole pack alpha thing. But Erica had needed the bite because of her epilepsy, and she was brave and strong and everything Derek's wolf wanted in a beta. She wasn't his first though, because right before she was supposed to be bitten, he met Isaac.

Derek haltingly tells Isaac's story, the parts he knows the beta doesn't mind being repeated. Stiles seems to understand Derek is leaving bits out, but he doesn't push for more. He just listens, and nods, and seems to get it anyway, even without all the details.

"So Isaac was your first beta, and then Erica. How did you get Boyd?" Stiles asks.

"Once I settled in the territory, he just came up to me one day. Calm as could be, laid out his strengths and why he'd be a good beta. He didn't tell me he was lonely, but I could smell it on him. He needed a pack, and I understood that. I told him he'd be a perfect fit and he looked like I'd just given him the world."

Stiles smiles. "So it's just the three of them, huh?"

"I had someone else want in, but he was a douchebag so I turned him down. He got pissed off and tried to sue me, but half my Mom's pack are lawyers. He backed off pretty quick."

Stiles throws his head back and laughs. "That's amazing."

Derek smiles and tries not to think of how pretty Stiles's throat would look with Derek's marks all over it.

They drink coffee together long after the food is gone. Stiles talks with his whole body. Derek loves his hands in particular. 

"Closing time, boys," their waitress finally tells them, and Derek sighs.

They drive back to the den but don't get out of the car yet. Derek keeps stealing glances at Stiles's mouth, and Stiles keeps doing the same to Derek while licking his lips. 

"Can I kiss you goodnight?" Derek finally asks.

Stiles smiles. "Please. It's all I've been thinking about since we left the diner, so. Yeah. Definitely."

Derek cups Stiles's face with both his hands, as gently as he can. Stiles closes his eyes and sighs. He smells of excitement and happiness and Derek can only think, _This is for me._

Stiles tastes a little bit like coffee and cream. He moans when Derek kisses him, and he clutches at Derek's shoulders like he's afraid to let go. Derek doesn't want to stop kissing him. He wants to capture this moment and keep it like this forever. He pulls back, though, just to check and make sure it was okay for Stiles.

"That was definitely a boyfriend kiss," Stiles says, sounding slightly breathless.

Derek smiles. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You've got the job."

They hold hands as they walk up to the house. He sees a twitch of curtain and hears Erica and Isaac whispering something.

Derek pulls Stiles close, and Stiles wraps his arms around him and hugs him. Derek was expecting another kiss, but this is somehow even better. He doesn't get many hugs, not even from the betas. And Stiles hugs with his whole body. Derek doesn't know what to do with all the new feelings.

When they break apart, Stiles smirks. "That was a Stilinski hug."

"I liked it."

"Good, because you'll be getting a lot of them from here on out." Stiles shoots him with finger guns. It's ridiculously endearing. "Perk of being my boyfriend."

Derek smiles helplessly and pulls him close again, this time for another kiss.

* * *

It's not always so easy. Derek still has moments of doubt. But Stiles fits into his pack (and his arms) so comfortably, like he was always meant to be there.

"I finished laying the first layer of territory wards," Stiles says one day. He's frowning.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Derek asks.

"Something's already tripped them," Stiles says. "Whoever or whatever they are, it's not good."

Derek frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The wards pick it up if someone with ill intent toward the pack enters. And yeah, they are definitely gunning for us."

"Who? Where are they?" Derek asks, stiffening. 

"I don't know," Stiles says. "But I can guess they're here because our nemeton woke up. Remember what I said?"

"That she'll attract things."

"It's just until the full moon," Stiles says, but he smells of worry and anxiety.

"We'll stay together," Derek says, pulling out his phone to text the rest of the pack. "Safety in numbers."

Stiles nods. "Good idea." He still looks worried, though.

Derek sighs. "And I'll call my mom. Maybe she can send reinforcements."

Which is why, less than a day later, Derek is welcoming his uncle back into his territory. His uncle Peter, who takes a keen and immediate interest in Stiles.

"You must be Stiles," Peter practically purrs when they meet. Derek stands back, clenching his teeth. 

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "I must be, yeah. Oh, you're the one who sent Derek all the books on the nemeton!" And suddenly Stiles looks impressed. "Have you read them yourself? I wanted to pick your brain about regrowth and how it'll happen. I know I'll find out if I just wait and see, but I really want to know _now_."

Peter smiles. "It's only natural that you'd be curious. I believe the text by Doyle and Simms has the most information on the growth patterns of nemeta."

Derek feels superfluous.

He backs out of the room and goes to check on the betas. They've been less than happy about being 'cooped up' in the den. Boyd and Erica are missing classes at the local college, and Isaac has called in sick to work. No one is pleased.

"What's the point of having wards on the territory if they don't make us safe?" Isaac is saying.

"They aren't complete," Boyd points out. 

"Then maybe Stiles should be working on them," Isaac grumbles. "Did you eat all the Pringles?"

Derek makes his presence known with a growl. "We are not putting our emissary at risk while there's danger lurking around Beacon Hills."

"We don't even know if it is danger," Isaac says. "All we have is a feeling Stiles got. Maybe he set the wards wrong. But on his say-so, we're trapped in this house with nothing fun to do, plus we're low on groceries."

Boyd doesn't say anything but Erica nods. "It sucks."

"It would suck even more if you went out and got attacked," Derek points out.

"It's just until the full moon," Boyd says calmly, rubbing Erica's shoulder. "It's no big deal."

"That's over a week," Isaac says. "We don't even have enough food to last!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Erica says. "Will you shut up about the food?"

Isaac folds his arms and sits back against the sofa cushions. 

"I'll go to the store," Derek says. "We do need some provisions if we're going to be here."

"You can't go alone," Boyd says.

"Can I go, too?" Isaac asks. "I've got to get out of here."

"Fine," Derek says. "But we're only going to the grocery store. In, out, and back here as fast as we can."

Erica looks affronted. "Why does Isaac get to go and not me? Are we rewarding bitchiness now?"

"If that was the case, you'd be completely spoiled," Isaac tells her.

Erica growls and starts to lunge but Boyd holds her back.

"Can we please not try to kill each other?" Derek asks. He doesn't whine, but he doesn't snarl or roar them into submission the way he's tempted to do, either.

Peter and Stiles come downstairs then, and Stiles says, "We're going to the nemeton."

"No," Derek says. He doesn't like how close Peter and Stiles are standing. "Isaac and I are going to buy some groceries. We can't spread ourselves too thin."

"I can take care of myself," Stiles says, sounding affronted.

"I need you here to keep the den safe," Derek says, hoping that's enough to mollify him.

"Oh," Stiles says. "Well in that case, fine. We'll wait until you get back."

Derek looks between Stiles and Peter, then grabs his jacket and keys. He's jealous. He knows he is. He shouldn't be, but Peter has a lot to offer that Derek can't, and if Stiles decides he likes his uncle better, then…

"You'd better not leave without kissing me goodbye," Stiles says. He looks at Derek like he knows something's wrong, but isn't sure what.

It makes Derek deflate a little. He's being silly. Stiles chose him already. Derek leans in and gives Stiles a tender kiss, and when he pulls back, his boyfriend is smiling. 

"Stay safe," Stiles says.

"You too."

* * *

But of course they can't just go out and get groceries without incident. They're loading their haul into the SUV when Derek realizes something's wrong.

Derek feels them before he sees them. Alphas. As in plural, more than one, and if that's not enough to make his hackles rise, then seeing who they are _is_.

"Stay behind me," Derek tells Isaac. Isaac does as he's told for once and falls into place. There's not enough time to get get into the car and leave without acknowledging them. So now Derek has to actually interact with them. Wonderful.

"Derek," Ennis says pleasantly, as if there is no bad blood between them at all. Kali walks up beside them and smiles with sharp teeth. "We've just gotten into town. Forgive us for not announcing ourselves sooner."

"Who's that?" Isaac whispers. He doesn't smell of fear yet, and Derek would like to keep it that way. 

"This is Ennis and Kali," Derek says, as pleasantly as he can, even though he wants to rip them both apart for being in his territory. "Did you bring your packs with you, or are you just sightseeing?"

"I guess you haven't heard," Kali says. She tilts her head. "We've created a new pack. An alpha pack."

"A pack of alphas? What the-" Isaac says, and Derek elbows him before he can continue.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asks them.

"You'd have to ask Deucalion," Ennis says. He smiles and it gives Derek a chill. "He brought us here practically overnight without telling us why."

"Shut up," Kali hisses.

Derek tilts his head. "Deucalion Blackwood?" This isn't bad news. Derek knows Deuc through his mother. He's always been reasonable, and not unkind. His mother called him a visionary once, though it's been awhile since Derek's heard more about him. If he's Ennis and Kali's leader, things can't be _that_ dire. "Tell him I'd like to meet with him to discuss things."

Ennis nods slowly. "Oh, I'm sure he'd love to have a… discussion." 

"Creepy," Isaac whispers.

"I'll meet him tonight at Mabel's diner," Derek says. "Six o'clock." And because the danger is still there, "He can bring his emissary and I'll bring mine. We'll have a proper sit down."

Hopefully by then, Stiles will have the den properly warded against attack and everyone else can stay there in safely.

Kali's eyes are narrowed, but she can't seem to find fault with anything Derek's said. "Six o'clock this evening, then."

Derek nods and motions for Isaac to finish putting the groceries in the car, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Kali and Ennis leave without another word, and Derek waits until he's sure their gone before he relaxes.

"What the fuck?" Isaac says when they get in the car and start driving back. "How do you have a pack of nothing but alphas?"

Derek is thinking the same thing. "I have no idea, but Deuc isn't dangerous, as far as I know. Although people can change." He's thinking about it, and so far nothing makes sense.

"And what was that about them coming right away?" Isaac asks.

"They must have felt the nemeton waking up," Derek says.

"Great. Drawn to the territory by a tree. This supernatural stuff is crazy sometimes, you know that, right?"

It's easy to forget sometimes that Isaac used to be human. He's a good wolf, and a good beta — though sometimes Derek wishes he could turn his sass level down. But at other times, Derek is reminded how human Isaac still is. 

Derek shrugs and gives his beta a smile. "You get used to it."

Isaac turns away and grumbles some more about magic tree stumps, but Derek ignores him.

* * *

When they get to the house, Derek blows the horn to get his betas to bring in the groceries. He leaves them to it and goes straight to Peter. Who is sitting on the edge of the bed in the attic room, listening to Stiles ramble about ley line convergences. At least that's what Derek thinks he's saying. He goes quiet as soon as he sees Derek's face.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asks.

Derek scowls at Peter until his uncle stands. Derek sits right where he was, instinctively covering Peter's scent. Peter smirks, undoubtedly knowing just what he's doing.

"Tell me about Deucalion Blackwood," Derek says.

"Who?" Stiles asks, but it's Peter who would have the information.

Peter goes from smirking to looking alert and worried in the space of half a moment. "Is he here?"

"Yes. I didn't see him, but Ennis and Kali are here," Derek explains. "They said they're part of of his pack now. What the hell is going on, Peter?"

He's still holding out hope that Deuc is the same man who took tea with Talia while they discussed the future, a friend of his family, if not his pack. But Peter's sudden tension doesn't bode well.

"He and Laura were engaged," Peter says simply, and not at all like he just dropped a bomb.

Guilt hits Derek suddenly, though it's not as strong a feeling as his confusion. "What? This is the first I've heard of it."

"You were sixteen and only second in line for the alpha spark. Talia didn't think it was important for you to know yet."

Derek wants to argue that Deucalion Blackwood has to be at least twenty-five years older than Laura, but that part isn't actually so shocking. That they're both alphas isn't too bad either, since Laura still would have been able to bear children, though it may have taken awhile to get pregnant. But…

"Why didn't anyone _tell me_?" Derek asks. "I guess I understand why I didn't hear about it when I was a teenager, but no one in the past six or seven years thought that hey, I might like to know this?"

He feels something then, and Stiles is right by his side, slipping a hand into his. To calm him. To offer comfort. It works and he finds himself breathing easier.

"They weren't in love. It would have been a political alliance," Peter says. "A way for both of them to expand their territories and build a stronger power base."

"He must hate me," Derek mumbles.

Peter rolls his eyes. "For the last time, the incident was not your fault. Laura's injuries and coma are _not your fault_."

"I took everything of Laura's," Derek says. "Maybe I didn't take her future, not directly, but I took the territory and now I'm taking her nemeton. What if Deucalion's pack is here to claim it for themselves?"

"They probably are," Peter says bluntly. "But that doesn't mean you have to give it to them. This is your territory now. The nemeton, as I understand it, has chosen _you_."

Stiles squeezes Derek's hand. "And me."

"Yes, and Deuc may try to steal you away, as well," Peter tells Stiles.

Derek growls.

Stiles laughs, light and carefree. "Dude's got another thing coming if he thinks that'll work."

"The den needs careful warding so you and I can leave without worrying about an attack," Derek tells him. "Do you have time to do that? And will you still have enough energy for a meeting if you do?"

"I've got it all planned, so it won't take long," Stiles tells him. "But I'll be a little weak afterward. How long do we have?"

'Weak' is worrying, but Derek tries not to show how much. "We're meeting Deuc at six."

Stiles pats Derek's arm and leans in to kiss him on the cheek. "No prob. I've got this."

"Are you sure?" Derek asks.

"Yeah. I'll just need like five roast beef sandwiches to recover after I set the wards in place. And a nap." Stiles takes a deep breath, overwhelmed but trying to hide it. "Totally doable."

"Don't overextend yourself," Derek says worriedly. 

"Yes, without the nemeton's power to back you up, you have to rely on your own personal magical stores," Peter interjects. "Don't just brush this off. You need to be careful."

"I never had a nemeton before to augment my powers, so I do know what I'm doing. Full-fledged emissary here. I may not be bonded to the pack yet, but…" He looks thoughtful then. "Hmm."

"What is it?" Derek asks.

Stiles bites his lip. "Well. Maybe a temporary bond might work to help me get through the warding? Like usually, okay, we're talking several days work, with lots of breaks in between. But if one of you had my back on this…"

"I volunteer," Peter says.

Derek narrows his eyes at his uncle, who looks back at him innocently. Too innocently.

"It might put you to sleep for a couple hours," Stiles says. "I'm not sure. I've never tried it, I just know the theory."

"I could do it," Derek says. "And I have the alpha spark, so you'd have a bigger base of power to work with. Is that how it works?"

Stiles looks back and forth between them. "But if we go to the meeting and you need to fight-"

"I'll take a nap before we leave," Derek interjects.

"Or you could take a little power from each of us," Peter suggests. He smirks. "Threesome, anyone?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Don't be gross. But yeah, that might be a better idea." He steps away, muttering under his breath. "I wonder if I have…" He opens one of his cases, obviously looking for something. It gives Derek a chance to stare Peter down.

"He's mine," Derek says, too low for Stiles to hear.

Peter just smirks and says, "I don't see a claiming mark on him."

Derek scowls. Peter's right. Until Derek makes a mate claim, Stiles is free to choose someone else. He may like Derek now, but he's still getting to know him. He and Peter get along well. And Peter is handsome and as clever as Stiles. They would make a good pair.

Derek flashes red eyes at Peter. Peter shrugs and looks away, but there's still a smirk on his lips. Whatever he's thinking just has to be bad.

"Found it!" Stiles calls out, holding up a round medallion. The symbol in it is familiar.

"Where did you get that?" Derek asks. The symbol is for his pack. The triskele. 

"Had it made before I came," Stiles says. "Why?"

Derek doesn't know what to say. He takes his shirt off and turns around, showing off his tattoo.

He hears Stiles's intake of breath, and then he's coming closer. Tender fingertips trace the lines of the tattoo and Stiles says, "So that's what it means."

"What?" Peter asks.

Derek turns in time to see Stiles face break into a beaming smile. "My emissary dreams. I always see this symbol."

"Seems you've found the right pack, then," Peter murmurs. 

Derek shivers from Stiles's touch. He smells Stiles's arousal then, and for a moment is confused. But when he turns around and sees Stiles's dark eyes on him, he can't help but smile. Take that, Peter.

"So a temporary bond?" Derek asks.

Stiles blinks. His fingers twitch by his sides. Derek wishes he knew what he was thinking.

"Yeah. Um. Come stand in a circle with me." He takes one of Derek's hands and then holds out a hand to Peter, who of course takes it without hesitation. "I have to think a minute. I know a chant for sharing with one, or a whole pack, so it shouldn't be hard to tweak this…" Stiles closes his eyes.

"Take your time," Peter says.

Derek looks at where Peter is holding Stiles's hand, then back to Peter's smirking face. His uncle knows exactly how much Derek doesn't like this, but there's nothing to do about it.

Then Stiles starts to chant.

" _We come here free, We join here now_  
Strength of Day, strength of light  
Strength of three, to serve and bow  
Power to protect with magic and might!"

It seems so simple, and Derek has his doubts. But soon after Stiles sings his chant a second time, he begins to feel something. 

Like the nemeton, the magic is something he can feel — a presence, asking him a question without words. It is asking if he consents, and he finds himself nodding. Yes. Yes, he freely gives his power to Stiles. Beside him, he hears Peter murmur his own affirmation, and then there is a rush of what feels like an electric charge running through him, and then away from him, toward Stiles.

Stiles gasps and pulls his hands away. "Whoa."

"Are you okay?" Derek asks.

Stiles has his eyes closed and he nods. 

"That took more than I thought it would," Peter says, though he sounds fascinated.

And then Derek feels it. He feels Peter and Stiles. It's mostly like a pack bond, just more, and supercharged. It's almost too much. Too intimate. He's glad it only lasts until the early evening, or whenever 'strength of day' is at its end.

He looks over at Peter but Peter's watching Stiles with a hungry expression. 

"Very impressive, Stiles," Peter says. Derek can feel his attraction to the boy-emissary and it puts him on edge.

Then Peter looks at him and smiles. He must feel Derek's jealousy.

When Stiles opens his eyes, they're still glowing. Derek knows it's an aftereffect of the spell, but it doesn't stop him from finding it attractive.

Stiles grins at him. "C'mere." And then they're kissing. Stiles doesn't acknowledge Peter until the breathless kiss is over. "You okay, uncle Peter?"

Peter smiles. "I feel slightly… woozy. But other than that, I'm good. I'd like to pick your brain about off-the-cuff chants sometime, though."

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "Some other time, when I don't have to ward a whole den from top to bottom, dude."

Derek kisses Stiles again, just because he can. And a little because Peter is still looking at Stiles like he wants to eat him whole.

* * *

Derek doesn't know much about warding, but he does feel the protection begin to wrap around him while they wait for Stiles to work his magic.

"Here, hold this," Stiles says at one point, but when Derek holds out a hand, there's nothing to grasp. Or at least it seems so at first. Derek can feel… something. Magic, he guesses. He only 'holds' the thing for a few moments, and then Stiles takes it back. But in that short time, Derek has had a chance to look at Stiles and his magic completely differently.

"Normally you wouldn't be able to help that way," Peter tells him. "But because the power is shared between us at the moment, you were able to keep hold of the ward strand."

"Ward strand?"

"Stiles is spinning it out like a spiderweb. Connecting it all around and through," Peter explains, watching the emissary. "Anyone with ill intentions would get a nasty surprise from it." He gets a thoughtful expression. "I wonder if we could learn magic while we were bonded like this."

"Nope," Stiles says on his way past. He looks entirely intent on what he's doing, but apparently he can follow the conversation, too. "You may be bonded to me at the moment, but you're both still werewolves, and you can't use magic. Your inner magic would be at odds with whatever you were trying to do."

"Hmm. I wonder if there's a way around that," Peter mutters. "An eclipse, maybe?"

Stiles stops what he's doing to stare at Peter for a second, and then his face lights up. "Oh, dude, you probably could! That would be awesome. But you could only do it for as long as the lunar eclipse lasted."

Derek hates how well they mesh. His jealousy is really getting to him, and he hopes that despite the bond, they don't catch on to it. Well. Peter definitely knows, but Derek doesn't want _Stiles_ to know. It would just be embarrassing.

Stiles goes outside and they follow to watch him whisper to the four corners of the house. He stands back with his hands on his hips and closes his eyes again. When he opens them, it's with a beaming smile.

"All done." He pumps a fist in the air. "I can't believe it went so fast. And I don't even feel tired!"

Peter looks like he could do with a nap, and Derek is hungry, but other than that, things seem good.

"Let's get dinner," Derek says, wrapping an arm around Stiles's shoulders and guiding him back inside. 

"Roast beef sandwiches?" Stiles asks.

"Roast, at least," Peter says, sniffing the air once they're back in the house. "Along with all the sides you can think of. I believe your betas have outdone themselves, Derek."

Derek peeks into the kitchen and smiles at his betas. "Is dinner ready now?"

They all nod, so Derek helps carry food out to the dinner table. 

"I could eat the entire spread," Stiles says, and his stomach growls to add emphasis.

"You worked nonstop for three hours, doing several days work," Peter points out. "Hunger should be the least of it."

Stiles yawns but shakes his head. "I'll sleep tonight. Probably crash as soon as the meeting is over and we're back home."

Derek feels the word 'home' as a soft punch to his midsection that steals his breath and his words. Stiles look at him with a question in his eyes, but Derek just nods. Hearing Stiles call his den his home shouldn't hit him so hard but it _does_.

Peter shoves the bowl of mashed potatoes toward Stiles. Derek carves some thin slices of roast and puts them on Stiles's plate. The betas look on with amused expressions.

"This is so good," Stiles says once he's eaten a few bites. "Who did the roast?"

Isaac raises his hand like he's still in school. "I did. I did most of the cooking but Boyd helped a lot."

"Excuse me, I helped, too," Erica says with a soft scowl.

"You sat on the counter and kept telling me I was doing everything wrong," Isaac says with a frown.

"I was supervising."

Boyd snickers and leans in to kiss Erica's temple. 

"Everything is delicious," Derek says, and the betas look at him with wide eyes. Are his compliments to them so rare?

"Thanks, Alpha," Isaac says quietly after a few moments of stunned silence. He's radiating happiness with a wide smile.

They all are. Even Peter. 

Derek looks at the clock. The time keeps ticking by and he's worried about the meeting. He knows Stiles can handle himself, but he's worried about what he'll find out from Deuc.

He feels Stiles slip his hand into his. He looks down and smiles. Their hands fit together perfectly. Would it be so bad to think about taking a mate? To let Stiles's light into his life permanently?

* * *

They get to the diner right on time. Deuc and his emissary are already inside. Derek tenses, but Stiles seems to relax as soon as they come into view.

Stiles sits in front of them, sliding into the booth to face them. Derek sits stiffly and looks at Stiles in confusion.

"Marin," Stiles says with a smile. "It's good to see you."

Deucalion's emissary smiles back and nods. "Stiles. I haven't seen you in too long."

"You know each other?" Deuc asks.

"Marin was my student mentor when I trained," Stiles says. He sounds like he's trying to keep from laughing. Derek can see the humor.

"Has the nemeton already recognized you?" Marin asks, apparently getting right to business.

Stiles nods. "Both of us. We did our new moon ritual and we're just waiting for the full to make it permanent."

"Stiles," Derek hisses.

"So you aren't bonded to the nemeton _yet_ ," Deucalion says.

Marin and Stiles turn identical, pitying looks on him. 

"What am I missing?" Deucalion growls.

Marin pats his arm. "It's a lost cause. This territory isn't up for grabs. Besides, I wouldn't work against Stiles anyway."

Derek feels a tentative hope well up. Deuc's mouth falls open, but he doesn't argue.

A familiar waitress comes to their table. "You folks know what you want yet?"

Stiles turns to Derek. "Chocolate milkshake?"

"That sounds good," Marin says. "Deuc?"

The alpha of alphas grunts.

"Don't be a sore loser," Marin whispers.

Deucalion gives her a flat look. She simply smiles at him. 

Beside him, Stiles is grinning. He looks up at the waiting server. "Four chocolate milkshakes, thank you."

"Right away, sweetie."

Under the table, Stiles's hand finds Derek's once again.

* * *

Everyone talks at once when they get back to the den, or Peter and the betas, at least. They crowd around Stiles and Derek, demanding to know what happened.

Derek waits patiently for them to get their questions out, then gives a nonchalant shrug. "It's no big deal. Stiles handled it."

Stiles laughs and gives him a knowing look. "Like you weren't just as worried."

"What happened?" Peter asks again.

"Stiles knew the emissary," Derek says. "It was… anticlimactic."

Peter frowns. "Who was the emissary?"

"Marin Morrell," Stiles says. "She and I were pretty close when I was being trained."

The betas looks impressed, but so does Peter.

"I know of her. Not personally, but she's Deaton's sister."

"Yeah, she has an older brother," Stiles says with a frown. "How do you know him?"

"Deaton is my mom's emissary," Derek says.

"Hmm," Stiles says. "They aren't very close. Marin didn't talk about her family much, but when she did, it was nothing flattering.

"Sibling relationships can be complicated," Isaac says with a frown.

Boyd nods, but Erica, an only child, just shrugs. 

"I'm surprised Deuc has taken such a young emissary," Peter says thoughtfully.

"She's good. Smart, powerful," Stiles says. "Kind of frosty at first, personality wise, but once she decides you're friends, she's great."

Peter raises his eyebrows. "Sounds like just the type of person you want on your side."

Stiles grins. "It was a surprise to see her, but it worked out well for us."

"She said she wouldn't fight Stiles," Derek mentions. "I don't think we have to worry about the Alpha pack anymore."

"It's always good to have friends. Congratulations on your victory," Peter murmurs, eyeing Stiles in a way Derek doesn't like. 

Erica catches on to it, or something, and rolls her eyes. Then she grabs Boyd and leads him upstairs. Isaac heads back into the kitchen, now that there's no more to hear.

Stiles sighs and nods. "Well. It might have been anticlimactic, as you say, but I'm exhausted."

"You did a lot today," Derek says. He puts an arm around Stiles and is gratified when the emissary leans into his touch. 

"Yeah, I think I'm headed to bed before I crash here in the living room."

"Want me to carry you upstairs?" Derek teases.

Stiles smiles, his eyes half closed. "Nah, I can walk. Barely." He leans more heavily against Derek's side, smelling relaxed and looking extremely cozy.

"I'll take you up there," Derek says quietly. 

"Goodnight, you two," Peter says, but Derek barely hears him.

"Best boyfriend," Stiles mumbles, closing his eyes and letting Derek lead him to the attic. The trust he shows makes Derek feel humbled. 

Derek takes Stiles shoes off once he's sitting on the side of his bed. Stiles doesn't seem inclined to take off anything else, just plops right down on his pillow. Derek looks down at him and feels warm affection. "Goodnight."

Stiles cracks open an eye. "You can stay."

"Um."

"To sleep," Stiles says, rolling over just a little, making room on the bed at his side.

Derek licks his lips nervously. He hasn't shared a bed with someone — to sleep — since he was a kid. He's more than tempted. "Are you sure?"

"Mmhmm," Stiles hums sleepily.

Derek takes his boots and jacket off, then after a moment shucks his jeans, too. He's still wearing a henley and boxers, plenty to stay modest with.

Not that he wants to stay modest with Stiles at all. But sleep. That's what this is about.

He lays himself down and Stiles immediately rolls into his arms without prompting. 

"Thanks," Stiles mumbles. "Feels good."

Derek is feeling overwhelmed and his wolf is doing somersaults again. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

Stiles snuggles closer, his face pressed against Derek's neck. "G'night."

Usually he'd question whether he's worthy of something this good, but Derek feels so content, so _right_ , that he can't. He isn't going to wonder right now — he's going to enjoy the moment.

* * *

Stiles wasn't joking when he said _things_ would be attracted to the newly awakened nemeton. It's just a few days after Deucalion and his pack leave town that someone else moves into the forest. Someone with cannibalistic urges and little control over them.

The first body shows up on the edge of the preserve soon after Stiles announces he feels something through the wards. 

"It's not close to the den, so I'm not _too_ concerned for the pack's safety, but-"

Derek interrupts. "It's my responsibility."

"This is a job for hunters," Stiles says with a frown. "I get that this is your territory, and that you don't have a good history with them, but… I mean, I can call some who stick to the Code and who will work with you."

Peter is the one who growls, but Derek wants to do the same. 

"No hunters," Derek says through clenched teeth.

Stiles looks back and forth between Derek and his uncle. "Do you know anything about wendigos?"

"They look human, usually try to blend in with society," Derek says, recalling everything he knows about the species.

Peter nods. "But they obviously aren't trying to blend right now. That kill was messy. Obvious."

Stiles plainly wants to bring up the hunter thing again, but he just sighs and says, "Have you considered that we're talking feral, here? A feral, super strong cannibal drawn to our nemeton. This is not going to end well."

"We can handle it," Derek says, and hopes he's not being overconfident.

Stiles looks dubious for just a moment, but then he nods. "Sure. I mean, with my magic and your.. you-ness, we can't lose. Right?"

Peter's eyebrows raise. "You can't be involved."

Stiles chokes, eyes wide, and then he points at Peter with one accusatory finger. "Are you trying to tell me to stay at home like a good omega? So I can't go out there and protect my pack?"

Derek looks back and forth between them. He knows Peter values Stiles. Peter understands how powerful he is, how capable. He wouldn't say anything like this without a reason. So Derek motions him to go on.

Peter rolls his eyes. "Sweetheart, I'd never try to keep you out of a fight unless I knew your presence would just make things worse."

"What?" Stiles practically yells. "In what universe am I not competent enough to fight?"

And in what universe does Peter think it's acceptable to call Derek's boyfriend 'sweetheart'? Derek glowers, but Peter holds up his hands in defence.

"Wendigos don't have dynamics like alpha or omega, but what they do have is a highly developed sense of smell and a pull towards unmated omegas," Peter explains. "If you were in the fight, the wendigo would go into full berserk mode and either try to eat or forcibly mate you, depending on its mood at the time. It would ignore all others in favor of you from the moment it caught your scent. You need to stay far away from this, Stiles."

Derek agrees now that he's heard Peter's explanation. He nods. "The sooner we take this thing out, the better."

Stiles sets his jaw. "But I could-"

" _No_ ," Derek says.

Peter smiles charmingly at Stiles. "I'll be happy to keep you company at home while Derek and the betas hunt it down."

Stiles looks unimpressed.

"No, you'll be coming with us," Derek says. "The more strong fighters we have, the better."

"Yeah, and I don't need a babysitter." Stiles flops down on the sofa and sighs. "But I'd rather not be raped and eaten. The wards on the den are good; I'll be safe here."

"You should make sure you stay inside until we kill it," Peter says.

Stiles rolls his eyes and salutes sarcastically.

"Stiles," Derek says. He hopes some of his worry and care carries through in his voice. "Please don't go out."

"Fine," Stiles says, relaxing a bit of tension. "As long as you guys are careful."

"You should call the betas home," Peter says, as if Derek needs to be told this.

"Sure," he says, and pulls out his phone. He sends a text to the three betas, asking them to regroup at home. Boyd responds immediately with the information that he and Erica are on their way.

He doesn't hear from Isaac for a tense hour, but the text finally comes in and confirms the beta is coming home, too.

Derek doesn't let himself feel relief until everyone is safely in the den.

* * *

The next two days are spent hunting the wendigo and worrying that they won't be able to get to it in time.

That worry is not unfounded. It's feral, but not stupid. It manages to evade them and lay a false trail, so Derek is out with his betas tracking thin air when Stiles calls him. 

It's a miracle he gets through. The forest is notoriously bad when it comes to cell signals, but Stiles might boost it with a little magic. Which means serious business.

"Are you okay?" Derek asks when he answers.

"The wards are holding, but I've got a fucking lunatic feral wendigo prowling around outside the house!" The further Stiles gets through the sentence, the more freaked out he sounds. 

Derek swallows his panic and nods at his betas and Peter. "We'll be right there."

"How far are you?" Stiles asks. "I mean, I'm not a fucking damsel in distress! I could probably fight it, but-"

"Don't even try," Derek growls.

"I should've made the wards more offensive," Stiles mutters.

"We're up at the north end of the preserve. We'll get there as soon as we can. I have to end the call. I'm going to run."

The others are already running ahead, toward the house. He catches up with them quickly, then overtakes them. As the alpha, he's the fastest. He leads the pack and they move swiftly, covering a lot of ground. At one point he knows they're racing through the preserve even faster than is possible. He knows it has something to do with the nemeton. He's not about to argue if it keeps Stiles safe.

When they are almost to the clearing, Derek motions the pack to stop and use their ears. They all listen, though it doesn't take super senses to hear the roaring and snarling of the wendigo as he paces outside the wards. He hasn't noticed the pack yet, and that's to their advantage.

He's never seen such a large wendigo before. They usually blend in with people easily, living and working with the human population to camouflage their base needs. This one… 

He's easily almost seven feet tall, and muscular on top of it. He's half naked, his torso covered in dry smears of what looks like blood and viscera. He paces around the house, but doesn't lunge toward the wards. He's got what looks like a nasty burn on his arm, so he must have tangled with Stiles's wards already and knows better than to try them again.

Their best bet is to surround him and come at him from all sides. Derek quickly relays the plan using hand gestures and facial expressions, and everyone nods. Erica's eyes are already glowing amber. He realizes then that they are all worried for Stiles; he can feel it thrumming through the pack bonds. It was easy to miss at first, when he was trying to ignore his own feelings in favor of a clear head. 

The wendigo hears them at the last moment as they circle him, before anyone has a chance to jump in and hurt him. The wendigo may be feral, but he's not stupid. He seems to quickly assess his enemies, and then goes for the weakest-looking member. 

Isaac gets clawed in the belly before Derek can move in. It happens too fast to block.

The wendigo doesn't even wait for Isaac to crumple to the ground before he lunges at Erica. This time, Derek is ready. He roars a challenge at the wendigo. The feral creature turns all its attention to him.

And damn, the thing is fast. How can something so big move like that, Derek wants to know as he sees it headed toward him. He steps out of its path, but apparently it was anticipating that move. Boyd attacks it from behind, but not before it gets a good swipe in. Derek feels a sharp pain in his side, knows he's been clawed up.

From the triumphant sound the wendigo makes, it knows too.

He ignores the pain and faces the creature again. It lunges, and this time Peter blocks its attack, getting bloodied and knocked down in the process.

"That's enough," Derek mutters, and kicks the wendigo in the side of the knee. It should make its leg buckle, but it only serves to make it angrier.

Boyd and Erica attack in unison, and Derek gets a better hit in, and then finally the wendigo is crashing down. Not dead, but stunned. Derek moves in to make it permanent. He grabs the thing's head and twists, using all his power, and then…

Then Derek's holding a decapitated head.

Caution has him searching the area for new threats, but he finds none. It's time to worry about the wounded.

"Oh my god that was so gross," Stiles says, running out of the house, sounding cheerful. 

Isaac is moving and moaning. Peter is still. 

Derek tosses the head on the ground, ignores his injured side, and kneels beside his uncle. His head is bleeding sluggishly, but nothing looks caved in, which is always a good sign.

"Triage, then," Stiles mutters. He looks at them all and waves his hand in a showy bit of magic that Derek assumes is some kind of diagnostic tool. "Erica, help Isaac sit up. Boyd, make your alpha sit down and stop hiding his injury." He gives Derek a knowing, irritated look. Then he turns his attention to Peter.

Boyd shrugs and gives Derek a quick pat on the back. "You heard him."

Derek walks over to the porch and sits on a step. "It's not that bad."

Boyd looks unimpressed. Derek rolls his eyes and watches as Erica helps Isaac to a sitting position. Isaac looks stunned, and his hand goes to his bloody midsection.

Stiles is fussing over Peter. 

"He okay?" Derek calls.

"I don't like that he's still unconscious," Stiles says with a frown.

"Kiss me awake, then," Peter says without opening his eyes. The words are a little slurred, but Derek sighs in relief. He may not like Peter flirting with his boyfriend, but at least that means he's not in dire straits.

"In your dreams," Stiles says. "Can you open your eyes?"

Peter does. Stiles does a few tests with his finger and nods. 

"You're going to have a headache for about an hour, but you'll be fine." Then Stiles looks over at Isaac. 

Isaac waves at him. "It's healing."

"Let me see," Stiles says anyway, moving to his side.

Derek watches as Stiles takes care of everyone. He's good at it. Never panicky, always careful, but he doesn't pour on the sympathy like some healers do. It's clear he cares, though. His competence as he tends to the pack makes Derek's heart feel like it's too big for his chest. But then again, Stiles makes him feel like that a lot.

"Okay, big guy," Stiles says, moving to the porch, to Derek's side. "Your turn."

"It's no big deal," Derek says. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Right. I saw it happen, watched right from the window. He got you good." He juts out his chin. "Take your shirt off."

Derek smirks a little and tears what's left of his henley off. Stiles frowns, which is not the reaction Derek expected. He looks where Stiles is looking, and sighs.

"Looks worse than it is," he says.

"Let me be the judge of that," Stiles grumbles. He holds his hands near Derek's torn side and closes his eyes. It's nice to have all of his attention, but Derek would rather it be under different circumstances. Stiles sighs. "I've got salve in my things."

"It'll heal," Derek assures him. 

Stiles's lips tighten. "At least let me clean it."

Derek looks at him and gives in. "Okay. I don't really need it, but fine. If it'll make you feel better."

"It will." Stiles looks out over everyone else first, then leads Derek inside, to the bathroom. He gets a washcloth and tenderly washes dirt and blood from the wounds in Derek's side. 

Derek hasn't had anyone care so much from him since he was a kid. "Thank you."

Stiles frowns and looks like he's afraid of being mocked. But Derek is serious. Stiles seems to get that after a moment, and offers a small smile. "Yeah, well. Gotta look out for you."

Derek leans in and kisses his boyfriend's temple. The events of the day come crashing down on him and he realizes how close he came to losing this. The wendigo could have gotten through the wards, or Stiles could have gone out without protection, or what if there hadn't been wards at all?

"I'm glad you're safe," Derek whispers.

Stiles kisses him then, full on the mouth. "Well, you came and saved me. My hero."

Derek chuckles and kisses him deeply. Stiles makes a soft sound, a surrender, and kisses back.

* * *

The day of the full moon ceremony dawns bright and sunny. Everything is going well. The birds are singing, a gentle breeze is blowing through the trees, and Stiles is going into heat.

"Are you sure you can do it?" Derek asks, taking a careful breath through his mouth. That makes it worse. Now he can _taste_ Stiles's scent. 

Everyone is at the table. They're having an early dinner. Stiles isn't eating.

"Dude. Alpha. I've got this," Stiles says. His eyes are fever-bright. There's a flush to his skin. Hearing him call Derek 'Alpha' is making things worse.

"You can say 'dude'," Derek says quickly.

Stiles's brow furrows. "Okay?"

"Wowww, this is like a dictionary definition of sexual tension," Erica says. "Though Stiles, you're not jumping him so…. how are you doing that?"

Stiles tilts his head and gives her a sarcastic smile. "My biology's not the boss of me."

"Your restraint is commendable," Peter says. He's sitting the farthest from Stiles but he's still watching his every move. Derek doesn't like it at all.

"The council has strict training procedures for omegas… and alphas, too. We have to be able to do all kinds of shit while we're in heat or rut. Just in case. This?" Stiles makes an all encompassing gesture with his hands. "This is nothing."

"So if someone outside the pack tried to use your biology against you, they would be in for a surprise?" Peter asks. "That's sneaky. I like it."

Stiles smiles, but there doesn't seem to be a lot of humor behind it. "Yeah. I mean, the training sucked, but I can withstand a lot. Nobody's hurting my pack that way."

"But you can still…. um," Isaac tries to ask. Derek growls at him.

"I think that's enough questions about this," he says.

Isaac ducks his head. "Sorry."

Stiles looks at Derek and smiles in gratitude. Derek wants to lick his neck. Hold him down and bite him.

"I've had enough," Boyd says, getting up from the table.

"I'm with you," Erica says, even though she still has half her food on her plate. She walks into the kitchen and mumbles. "I need nose plugs. Alpha smells horny."

"I can still hear you," Derek grumbles, face flushing as red as Stiles's.

Erica pokes her head in the doorway and grins. "I know."

Isaac finishes his food quickly, then leaves as well. Soon it's just Stiles and Derek at the table. And Peter, of course, who is taking his time, twirling his fettuccine around his fork as if he's not bothered at all. Then again, he smells quite potent, himself.

"I would've thought you'd be gone by now," Derek tells him.

Peter grins. "Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Creep," Stiles mutters. "You know you're only invited to the ritual, right? Not the…" He makes a face.

"One can always hope," Peter says lightly. "You never know what will happen."

Derek narrows his eyes at his uncle. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Peter sighs. "The full moon would be the perfect time for an attack. And with Stiles in heat, you look vulnerable. It's better to have another good fighter by your side. Just in case."

Stiles's scent floods with worry. It almost overpowers his natural omega-heat scent, and Derek hates it.

But Peter has a point. "Thank you," Derek mutters.

Peter stands up and takes his plate. "You're very welcome." Then he leaves the room, and Derek is finally alone with Stiles.

"Do you feel anyone in the territory?" Derek asks him. "Anything new or dangerous?"

Stiles shakes his head. "No. But I'm a little distracted, so I could have missed it."

"I highly doubt it," Derek says.

"You've got way too much faith in me, Alpha… dude."

Derek swallows. "I think I have just the right amount."

"I'm dying to kiss you," Stiles admits.

"You can. I'd let you do more than kiss me," Derek says, his heart thudding in his chest.

Stiles laughs. "It's not a good idea. One little taste and all our plans go out the window, because I'd be jumping you here and now."

Derek's cock _throbs_. He's glad Stiles can't smell just how desperate he's getting. 

"What do you want me to do? Is there anything. Um. I mean, can I make it easier on you?"

Stiles laughs again. His eyes are so beautiful. Derek wants to see what they look like when Stiles is about to come on his cock. On his knot. Jesus. Derek needs a long run through the forest and a cold shower to top it off, but he doesn't have time.

"You're doing it. Just being supportive and not making it harder on me," Stiles says. "But the ritual is an hour away now. Moonrise has already happened. The ritual itself will take like, fifteen minutes, tops. And then you can carry me off and have your way with me."

Derek likes the sound of that. His dick likes the sound of it, too. If he tries to move from this spot, though, he might grab Stiles _now_.

"Okay," Derek says, trying to get his breath under control. He keeps breathing deeply and getting lungfuls of _Stiles_ , which isn't helping the situation.

"Okay," Stiles echoes. He's watching Derek closely. "I guess… I'll go prepare. I'll meet you at the nemeton in an hour."

Derek swallows hard. Another wave of heat-scent reaches him as Stiles walks past into the other room. He fists his hands at his side so he doesn't start jerking off at the dinner table… or chase after Stiles right then.

* * *

Stiles is wearing the robe again. This time it's even more apparent that he's not wearing anything under it. It clings to his skin a little, the thin white fabric doing nothing to conceal the lithe (and aroused) body beneath.

Derek is going to _lose his mind_. It's hard to concentrate on the ceremony when the officiant is wearing that. Smelling like he does, like — dear god, like he's leaking omega slick. He is. He's…

The nemeton sends him a sharp nudge. _Pay attention._

Derek shakes himself out of his daze in time to take Stiles's hand in his and listen to Stiles's pledge. He realizes it's not that different from a mating ceremony. Stiles's words have to do with permanence and loyalty, not just to the pack but to Derek, as the alpha.

Derek's glad he doesn't have a lot to say in this ritual, and that the words come easily. He thinks the nemeton is helping him focus, because he feels the beginnings of his rut coming on and otherwise would never get through this on his own.

"I accept you as my emissary, and vow to partner with you for the good of the pack and the territory." The nemeton nudges him again and he smiles. "And the nemeton."

He's sure the addition is his own. Or maybe it's hers. Either way, it fits, and she sings joyously at the back of his mind.

Stiles must hear her, too. His smile is blinding.

The betas all murmur their agreement. Peter, standing the farthest away, nods as he bears witness.

All at once, the ritual is over. The magic tension Derek didn't realize was there breaks suddenly, and everyone looks around. The forest is brighter, and Derek feels more in tune with it. The nemeton hums happily, though he's sure it isn't an audible sound.

And Stiles looks at him with hunger in his eyes. Suddenly nothing else matters. The world narrows down to just Derek and Stiles, so much that he barely hears Peter's approving laughter.

Derek scoops Stiles up in his arms and heads to the house. He takes long strides at first, but when Stiles clings and whispers something filthy into his ear, he decides running is the better option.

* * *

He hasn't shared his own bed with Stiles yet, so it doesn't smell like _them_. Derek preens at the thought that it's going to change, that Stiles's scent is going to soak in and mix with his own until they are indistinguishable from each other. And Derek will do anything to keep it that way.

He kisses Stiles as soon as they're in his room. It's deep and desperate, hungry, but Derek needs to get his clothes off.

Stiles's robe is easy enough. It lifts right over his head in one easy motion. Stiles stands naked before him, fair skin ready for any and all of Derek's marks.

"Don't just stare," Stiles teases breathlessly. He climbs onto the bed and Derek's eyes follow him. It's impossible to look away. He's got Stiles in his bed. Right where he needs to be. Where he _belongs_. Stiles licks his lips. His scent is clouding the room now. "Dude. Get your clothes off."

Derek loses his shirt, first. He throws it somewhere. Away. Stiles's eyes darken and hums appreciatively. Derek fumbles with the button fly of his jeans, but then he's skimming out of them and almost falling over because he forgot to take his boots off first.

Stiles laughs at him, but it's not unkind. He even crawls forward to help, but Derek's managing okay without him. 

Finally, he's naked and climbing on top of Stiles, hissing at the fever-heat of his skin against his own. He wants to be inside Stiles, but he wants to taste him first. Everywhere. His mouth has been watering for hours, and now his tongue finds clean sweat at Stiles's sternum, then the nub of a nipple, already peaked hard. When his teeth scrape there, Stiles gasps and wraps his arms and legs around Derek in a wild cling. 

One of Derek's hands traces up and down a long leg from hip to knee and back again. He grasps Stiles closer, buries his face in Stiles's neck to huff long pulls of his scent. He licks there, too, then shifts again so he can nip at Stiles's shoulder. His straining bicep. He noses under his arm where his scent is stronger, and Stiles laughs wildly at the sensation. 

Derek simply cannot get enough of him. There's so much skin, so much scent, but every time his teeth turn sharp there's another spurt of slick-scent to overpower everything else. Derek reaches down between Stiles's legs, between his slippery thighs, and wets his entire hand with it. He groans, his cock throbbing insistently. 

"Get in me, you're supposed to be fucking me, c'mon Derek. Alpha. I need you," Stiles whines between his heavy breaths.

Derek grunts and teases at Stiles's hole with his fingers. It feels too small, like maybe it won't even take his fingers, but then Stiles wiggles a certain way and Derek's fingers slide inside that slick, grasping heat.

But Stiles isn't satisfied with that. "More," he moans, and Derek slides down to have a look at where his fingers are disappearing inside him.

"What are you doing?" Stiles yelps. He pulls at Derek ineffectually. Derek ignores this, his rut-addled mind determined to see. 

Derek moans at the sight of Stiles's hole. "You're taking my fingers so well, you want this so much," he tells him. 

"Ugh, don't be a jerk, I need you _now_ ," Stiles tells him. "Swear to god, I'll jump out of this bed and find someone who _will_ knot me."

Derek snarls and grabs his forearms, pinning him to the bed, mind racing with thoughts of Peter coming to steal his mate. "No. You… stay."

Stiles smirks up at him and licks his lips. "Make me." He jerks his hips up and almost succeeds in taking Derek's cock from beneath, he just doesn't have the proper leverage. 

Derek growls and kisses him while positioning his cock where it needs to be. Then he thrusts in and Stiles stops trying to rile him up and starts whining for more.

It's easy to comply. Derek's in complete agreement with his wolf, who only wants to fuck and breed and make their mate happy. At the moment, Derek doesn't even take pause at the word 'mate'. Of course Stiles is his mate. He's perfect, everything Derek could ever want, everything he never dared to dream of.

So Derek fucks him. When Stiles gets too squirmy and demanding, Derek pulls out and flips him over onto his stomach. Stiles immediately tilts his hips, presenting his ass perfectly, and Derek slides back home.

They both moan at the new position. Stiles babbles something about how good Derek's cock is, but how he needs to "go faster, Alpha, please, need you", but Derek's happy to fuck him slow and deep.

Stiles is so impatient. Demanding. Mouthy. God, Derek loves him so much. Even like this he's pushing at Derek, challenging him to show what a good alpha he can be. 

"Derek. God, it feels so good, but I need… I _need_!" There are tears in his voice and Derek has to give him what he needs, so he starts fucking him the way he's been begging for.

He grips Stiles's hips, surely leaving bruises, and pounds into him until Stiles can't talk anymore. At least not in full sentences.

"Derek.. Alpha… _yes!_ "

Derek's fangs are sharp in his mouth now, and they itch to bite into Stiles's shoulder, to claim him completely. He doesn't remember why he shouldn't. Stiles is _his_. Perfect, amazing omega.

He wants to claim him and breed him full. Wants to see him round with his pups. Keep him happy and pregnant and surround him with a pack who adores and protects him. He wants to give Stiles _everything_.

He only realizes he's said all that aloud when Stiles gasps and pushes back greedily against his cock. 

"Yes, Alpha, all of that," Stiles cries. "Please, Alpha." His whole body is straining, moving in time with Derek, covered in sweat and slick. They both are. They're moving as if they're one person with one goal. 

Stiles isn't close enough. Derek maneuvers him up into his lap easily, and Stiles lets out a sob. This way, Derek can wrap his arms around his mate and set his teeth into his shoulder. He bites down, firm but careful not to tear. Stiles whimpers and jerks, but Derek holds him firm so he doesn't hurt himself on the fangs. 

"You're mine," Derek mutters, words slurred around fangs and blood. 

Stiles nods hard, moaning from pain or pleasure or both. Derek tries to take the pain, but Stiles hisses, "Don't you dare."

"Okay?" Derek asks.

Stiles rocks on his dick and nods. "C'mon. Knot me. I need it. Fill me up."

Derek's knot is already fully formed and ready, but he doesn't give it to Stiles yet. He lays Stiles back down, on his side this time, and slides in behind him. He kisses the mate mark and the back of Stiles's neck. 

Then he starts thrusting, pushing carefully, giving Stiles time to get used to the bigger intrusion. 

"God, Derek, love it, love this…"

Derek gives one last thrust and then his knot is inside, locked up tight in Stiles's hole. 

The pressure, the tight grasp of Stiles's body around his knot is _perfect_ , and Derek starts to come. 

Stiles makes a choking sound when Derek angles everything just so. Then Stiles is coming too, and it feels more like he's coming _apart_. Derek holds him through it, even wraps his hand around Stiles's cock and strokes him so he can draw out as much pleasure as possible.

Stiles comes, and comes, and then he whimpers when the hand on his cock is too much. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles's body instead, holding him close and whispering nonsense against his ear.

Derek is still coming, but it's not as powerful as it was. His cock is locked inside his mate, spurting from time to time, still filling Stiles up. 

Stiles whines when Derek tests the knot by pulling back just a little. It's too soon for that, but then it seems to be rubbing just right inside Stiles, and Derek smirks at the pleased whimpers it wrings out.

"Yeah?" Derek whispers. "Feels good?"

Stiles whines and squeezes tight around Derek's knot. The sensation is like nothing Derek's ever felt, and he growls and tries to push in farther.

"So good," Stiles pants. "Derek. _Alpha._ "

Derek tweaks one of Stiles's swollen, sensitive nipples. Stiles whines again. 

"Fucked and filled and you still want more, is that right?" Derek asks. "My sweet little mate, can't get enough of my knot."

"Yours, please, Derek… gonna…"

Derek's hand finds Stiles's cock again, strokes it back to full hardness. Stiles whines like he's hurt but he doesn't smack Derek's hand away, so he keeps going.

"You gonna come again?" Derek whispers. His teeth itch to dig into the muscle of Stiles's shoulder, to mark his mate permanently as his and his alone. 

"Please," Stiles whines, and when Derek rolls his hips to make his knot tug at Stiles's rim, his mate cries out loudly.

"Say it again, tell me you're mine," Derek slurs, his rut making his head one hazy mess of fuck/knot/claim.

"Do it," Stiles whines. "Bite me again. Make me yours."

He can't move much inside Stiles, but just a little is enough to make his mate cry out in ecstasy. He's overwhelmed with pleasure, that much is clear, but Derek wants to own him completely. To give him everything.

He bites down. He shoves his hips forward. He strokes Stiles's cock hard and fast. And Stiles…

Stiles comes again with a noisy, enthusiastic sound, his blunt fingernails digging into Derek's arms where he's holding him. His whole body tenses with it as he cries out, his cock spurting what little come is left. And then he softens. Not just his dick, but his whole body goes lax.

"Stiles, baby?" Derek whispers. But Stiles is out. Overcome by too much pleasure, he's passed out in Derek's arms. Derek kisses the messy marks he's made and licks them clean. He pets Stiles's wild hair. He knows Stiles can't hear, but he whispers promises and praise to him anyway. 

Eventually, Derek's knot deflates and he's able to pull away. He slides down Stiles's body to check and make sure he's not bleeding at all, since the scent of the mate mark's blood would have covered any possible injury.

Stiles isn't hurt, though. Oh, he's puffy and used and so, so red, but he's not injured. He'll be sore once his heat is over, though. For the moment, Stiles sleeps on, and Derek can lick and suck at his poor little wet hole.

* * *

"And here I thought I'd have to ease you into the idea," Stiles says three days later. His heat has broken and he's lying in Derek's arms, one finger tracing the broken skin of his new mate mark.

Derek frowns. "What?"

Stiles shifts to prop himself up and smiles. "I'm your mate now. I thought it would take more convincing."

Derek does feel guilty, but it's not like he could have stopped himself. He even bit him twice to make sure it would take. And Stiles seems happy. Derek's still not sure he's worthy of a mate as good as Stiles, but that's what he has. "You already wanted it?"

"From the very beginning," Stiles says, and leans in to place a gentle kiss on Derek's cheek.

"You're amazing," Derek says. He reaches out and strokes Stiles's shoulder. He eyes the mate mark and feels a great sense of satisfaction.

"So are you," Stiles says with a grin. He wiggles a little, then grimaces. "Now do a little of that pain drain thing. I'm sore."

Derek tries to hold back his smile at that and does as he's asked. 

"Ahh, that's the stuff. Now don't be so smug."

"I wasn't," Derek tries to deny.

Stiles gives him a look that says, _I know you better than that._

Derek pulls him close and kisses him. Stiles smiles against his lips, so he can't be too mad.

He smiles back. There's a lightness in his heart now, something that's been creeping in since he met Stiles. He's glad he let it in.


End file.
